Of Course I Get Along With the Crazy Clown
by Don't Judge My Happiness
Summary: What happens when the Joker meets his match in a girl who turns out to be anything but normal. Oh, and this is post Dark Knight. This is all my own, and this is what happens at 2:00 AM and I'm on a sugar high. Joker/OC
1. I GOT TO SLEEP!

Hey there! My name is Karissa Preston. You can call me Kara, Kari, or Kris, or Karissa if you really want to. I answer to just about anything, once I think I even answered to Hey you. Right, sorry, I'm gettig side-tracked. I'm going to apologize now, I do that a lot, and I mean _a lot,_ a lot. But you can blame that half on my dumbass mother, and half on me. It's my mom's fault because she went a little crazy on caffeine when she was pregnant with me. From what I was told, she constantly drank Vaults, Red Bulls, Amps, and Monsters, and a whole bunch of other stuff. All that crap led to my birth defect. Well, technically, it's a mental defect where I'm almost always hyper, spazzy, and kind of twitchy. But that's only if I drink caffeine...which I do all the time...against doctor's orders. But come on, you really expect a twenty-three year old women to _not _drink some form of caffeine. Come on, that's crazy! Okay, my I'm exaggerating, a little. But that is besides the point. To be honest, I kind of enjoy being jacked up on sugar and shit, it's fun!

Well, you know my name, my age, and about my mental defect. How about I let you in on what I look like? Let's see... I'm around 5'7, 5'8, umm, I weight around 150 pounds, give or take a few. But then again, I'm mainly muscle. Last time I went to the doctor I think he said I had around 4% body fat...I think. I'm straight, and single...Woo hoo! Please note that I say this with sarcasm. I mean, personally, I don't entirely care that I'm single. But people, I'm sick of dating assholes! Or being cheated on, so for the time being, I'm good with not dating...Not saying that I would say no if a nice, attractive, sweet, non-asshole, guy decided to ask me out...Hint hint. My body type, I guess is considered tall, atheltic, curvy, and a little pale. Now, I'm going to admit, I have big boobs. However, they are as _**not**_as great as everyone would think. Justing walking quickly can be a hassle, scratch that, I do have to run for it to be uncomfortable, but other than that, they're not that bad. I would say 34D. My hair is...wow, umm, bright ass colors. The base is freakin' dark as night black. Then I have these lime green streaks, not to mention lime green undertone, and I have to say, it looks kick ass! Also, my hair is super straight, and really long. It reaches a little lower than mid-back, so I usually have it up in a high ponytail, but I leave my bangs down. My eyes match my hair, sort of. To explain, my eyes are two different colors. My left eye is lime green, and my right eye is this super bright, holy shit, electric blue, also, very kick ass! As you can tell, I have a very colorful vocabulary. Okay, continuing... Next, how about my tattoos and piercings. Tattoos are as follows, lime green star outlined in black on my right shoulder blade, electric blue star outlined in black in between my shoulder blades, a neon purple star outlined in black on my left soulder blade, and finally, a solid black star in the middle of my lower back. Following those are my piercings, now this may take a minute. Let's start with my face. I have three rings on the outer side of my left eye brow, one ring in the middle of my right eye brow, single onyx stud on my left nostril, snakebites with rings instead of spikes, and a single ball tongue piercing. Moving to my ears, I have eight piercings going from my cartilage to my lobe on my left ear, and a single ring in middle of my right ear. Next I have a single ring on my belly button, and that concludes my piercings. All together I have...eightteen piercings, most of which I think are on my left ear.

Do you care about what make up I wear? If so, why? All it is, is heavy black eyeliner, black eye shadow, dark purple lip stick, and clear gloss. But I have to say, I love my lipstick because it looks almost black! Now you get to hear the clothes I wear...ready? I wear black spaghetti strap tank tops, long-sleeved black fitted tees..well, only if it's cold, black wife beaters, and my favorite pair of jeans. Actually, all my jeans look the same, faded, torn up, low rise, flares. And I would beat someone if they took my jeans. My shoes are my sad, faded, torn up, low top, Chuck Taylor's, or converse. But then again, I bought four pairs so I would never run out of my shoes. Or, if I'm in a really good mood, I wear my babies. They started out as brown and light blue checkered Vans, but now they look more like tan and black, also I colored a single square on each of them, one is blue, the other red.

Stuff that I wear that aren't clothes. My guitar pick necklace. It's two guitar picks molded together, red on back, and black on the front. And there's a red pulse line going across the front. That's it actually. Oh, my belt, I always forget because I almost never take it off. It's black, leather with three rows of silver studs on it.

Now I get to tell you about my electronic babies. Starting with Felipe the Second, my cell phone, a black Krzr. And you pronounce it, Phil-E-pay. Next is KarmaBella, neon purple, 4th generation iPod, she's amazing. Last, but not least, my pretty black, Gateway Notebook, Fredward. Do not judge or mock the name, got me!?

Finally, you get to know the random crap about me. Like my family...HAHAHAHA, sorry, they're all dead. As you can tell, I really don't give a rat's ass. My parent's treated me like shit my entire life. From the time I was two until I turned fourteen those bitches abused me. Broken bones, bruises, scars...so many scars. They would actually sit there, and cut little designs into my skin. Including the star on the left side of my forehead, but I can hide it with my bangs, which are lime green and go straight across my forehead, curving slighty, and stopping just at my eye brows. I have a bunch of star scars, and other shapes, hearts, diamonds, but mainly stars. The way they treated me like that might have something to do with my fascination with scars, and stars. My personality, is hard to explain, you'll just have to see they way I act. How I grew up is pretty obvious, I let you figure some of it out. And the rest of the shit about me, well, you'll just have to wait and see.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Okays, and yes, the _s_ at the end is supposed to be there. You'll eventually get used to the way I talk... I guess I should start with me waking up, that's usually around three in the morning. Don't ask why, it's just a habit. I guess I do this so I can get in some work out time. You know, stretching, running, kicking the holy hell out of the punching bag in the gym below my apartment. Wait, I never said where I lived, did I? Well, I live in Gotham City, fun fun, huh? Right now, I think just about everyone is scared shitless of the Joker. Apparently he's some crazy dude, who likes blowing shit up and slicing and dicing, and leaving scars. To me, sadly, he sounds like someone I would hang out with. But, he's never bothered the apartment complex I live in, or the tattoo parlor I work at, so I guess I'll never know. Okay, back to the punching bag. I do this every morning for about an hour, practicing my kick boxing, Krav Maga, MMA, and let me tell you, all that shit is one hell of a workout! In that hour alone, I'm completely drenched in sweat, so I have to go take a shower. Once I do that, I smell like green apples, you know, they real juicy, yet sour taste you get, yeah, I smell like that. Blow dry my hair super fast, not bothering to use the straightener I bought, since my hair's straight as a board as it is. Swipe on my eyeliner, not feeling like wasting my time with the rest. I throw on my black bra, and thong, yes, I do occastionally wear thongs, so sue me. Next I grab a spaghetti strap and a pair of jeans. Next are my awesome socks, they go to about mid-thigh, so you can see them through the holes in my jeans. They're black, but they have neon colored stripes on them. Grabbing a pair of shoes, I grab a pear and a Vault and head out to work. Checking my phone, I make sure it's close to five, before walking all of three blocks before going into _Forever Scarred_. That's the name of the tattoo parlor, cool, right? It's only me and Jayson, the coolest gay guy you will ever meet, working there. I'm forever greatful for him letting me work at his shop. I've known him since pre-k, no lie, I've basically known this mother fucker my entire life. He's the only one that helped me keep what little sanity I had left from my parents.

Alrighty, it's been four hours since I've gotten to work, I've had two Vaults and I'm currently drinking a green Monster, and it's amazing. Walking back to the mini-fridge, I grab a pear and start munching on it. As you can see, I love my caffeine and fruit. Well, right now, there's no one in here, so I take the oppurtunity to lay down on one of the tattoo chairs, backwards...mainly cause I'm bored, and because they're really comfy. However, it does make my shirt rise up, and I know if you walk in the door you'd see my black star, and several of the scars my parents left.

"Jayson," I whine from my chair as I grab my iPod from the table next to me, and put it in my back pocket.

I can barely hear him grunt from the back room.

"Get your fine ass out here," I growl, jokingly of course, feeing my phone move around in my other back pocket.

"What if I don't want to," he teases.

"Too damn bad, I'm jacked on caffeine, and you're my bitch, so get out here!" I yell, explaining things in my own weird way.

But before I even hear movement from him, the guitar pick I glued to the doorway runs across the strings I attached to the inside of the door, which makes a screechy, yet pleasant sound. Which tells me that someone just walked in.

"Hello, random person who walked into _Forever Scarred_. In what way would you like me to creatively, and colorfully forever scar you," I greet and ask this to everyone that walks in, well, when I'm sitting in the chair and can't see them.

"Kara," Jayson yells.

"What," I grunt.

"How are you not bouncing up and down," he asks.

"I give it another thirty seconds before I'm totally jacked," I tell him.

However, my thirty seconds is interrupted by someone putting their hand over my mouth, and everything goes dark.

Last thought, 'I better get some damn pears and caffeine!'

__________________________________________________________________________________

As I start walking up, I realize something, HOLY CRAP I ACTALLY JUST SLEPT! Sorry, but you have to understand, I'm an insomniac. Earlier, when I said I woke up, that means I just got out of bed at that time. So right about now, I'm freakishly happy, and I really feel like hugging the crap out of the person who knocked me out. And I know just how strange that sounds, but you try going for a really long time with only getting a few minutes of sleep a day, or only sleeping due to pills. Let me tell you, it's not easy. However, my good mood goes away when I realize, I'm sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back. This might work on somebody, if they weren't double-jointed in their shoulders, such as, I don't know, someone like...me. I will admit, it hurts like a bitch bringing my arms around, I'm basically popping them out of placing and then putting them back in. It takes all of ten seconds for the stinging sensation to stop, and the caffeine to finally kick in. This does me no good since I can't use my hands... Unless, I can get Frankie or Eddie out of my pockets. Allow me to explain, Frankie is my trusty, and shiny lighter, while Eddie is my equally trusty and shiny pocket knife. I've had both these objects since I was seventeen. And as you guessed, I'm having to put more lighter fluid in Frankie and making sure that Eddie is still sharp. To test Eddie for sharpness, I run him across the inside of my left hand. I have lots of criss-cross lines on my hand, and if I stare at them long enough, they start making shapes...but that's beside the point.

Since I really want Frankie and/or Eddie, I reach to my left as far as I can, and slip Eddie out of my back pocket. Yes! Then, I flick the blade open, and turn it towards me. I slowly start cutting the rope, trying not to get myself, mainly because I really don't need anymore cuts at the moment, and the fact that the way I'm holding the blade, I would most likely get a vein. It takes me about a minute, but none-the-less, I get out. I start doing my happy dance, but I'm interrupted as the door in front of me starts to open. So I put Eddie back in my pocket and sit back down in the chair, trying to look as innocent as possible, but with me...it doesn't work so well. As I look at the door, I see a tiny bit of faded lime green hair, and I smile.

Then it hits me, I've been fucking kidnapped by Joker! But thanks to my screwed up life, this doesn't bother me as much as it should. He finally steps in the room and looks up at me, he seems surprised that I'm already awake, or the fact that my bonds are laying by my feet and I'm sitting on the back of my chair. Quickly, he moves towards me and kicks the chair from underneath me, and I slam back, head then back, then the rest of me into the floor. Instead of a normal reaction, I start laughing my ass off. Now, don't get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch, but I've done that to myself God knows how many times, and usually it's to get away from some guy coming onto me. Or me just randomly falling off the back of the chair I'm sitting on, half the time I shouldn't even be able to but I do. So, do you see why I'm laughing myself to death?


	2. She's Weird Like Me

I've decided to take a day off from my usual tactics of terrorizing and causing chaos. Instead, I've opted to walking around the city that I love destroying so much. I'm not really looking at the buildings around me, that is, until I see a small, dark-brick building, with a sign that reads _Forever Scarred_. Suddenly interested, I walk over and look through the window. Inside, I see the reteating shape a muscular man, and the more curvacious figure of a woman. I notice that she has a can of Monster in one hand, and what looks to be...a pear? Strange combination, but who am I to judge. She starts eating the pear before sitting down bacwards in one of the chairs. It's then that I notice a bunch of needles and different pictures on the walls. Then it finally hits me, it's a tattoo place. I walk in the door seeing as how she doesn't seem to be paying attention. When I open it, though, instead of those stupid chimes that I always want to cut to pieces, the sound of...something goes off. Looking down at the door, I see strings and a pick, I'm guessing an idea one of them came up with.

"Hello, random person who walked into _Forever Scarred_. In what way would you like me to creatively, and colorfully forever scar you," she asks, not even looking back at me.

_'_I've been scarred enough, thanks.'

Instead of speaking my thoughts I walks towards her, but I'm stopped by a voice.

"Kara," the guy yells.

"What," she groans back.

"How are you not bouncing up and down," he asks, sounding very confused.

"I give it another thirty seconds before I'm totally jacked," she replies, still not bothering to turn around.

So I move forward quickly, wrapping my hand in a chloroform soaked towel, I push it against her mouth and noise, and it she quickly passes out. I take a good look at her, she has dark black hair, with lots of lime green in it. Basic eyeliner, a tank top and jeans, torn up converse, interesting necklace, and then I see the star tattoo in the middle of her back and I can't help but trace it. Before the big guy can come from the back, I pick her up bridal-style and carry her back to the base. As soon as I get there, I have the boys get a chair and put it in an empty room, then I put her in it and tie her hands together beind the chair. I figure I have some time to kill, so to speak, so I decide I'll have a little fun while I wait for her to wake up. So, me and the boys go on a little robbery, get some extra cash and head back to the warehouse. It's only been an hour, so she should still be asleep, but I might as well go check on her.

Just imagine my surprise when I walk in there to see her awake, the rope I had around her wrists is on the ground, and she's sitting on the back of her chair. A mean idea comes into mind, so I quickly move forward, and I see that's she's just sitting there, watching me, so I kick over the chair. I hear hear land, first her head, than her back, and finally the rest of her. But unlike any normal person, she starts cracking up, which reminds me, of well, me.

I stare at her, just trying to figure out what kind of person I decided to kidnap this afternoon. And wouldn't you know it, she's...weird. Slowly, she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and as she continues to laugh, she stares at me. After a minute, her laughing dies down, and she tilts her head to the side, still staring at me. It takes me a second before I come to the conclusion that she's staring at my scars.

'Just like everyone else.'

"Why so serious," I ask, my voice returning to it's dangerous tone.

She doesn't answer, or blink, or look away from me. I lunge forward and land less than a foot away from her. Still, no change in her staring. Finally, I grab her face in my left hand, grabbing my knife with the other. She finally looks away from my face when I flick the blade open. But instead of a worried, scared, or frightened look like I was expecting, her brows are furrowed together, and she looks...mad. But not my kind of mad, but an angry mad.

"Did you take Eddie," she questions, still glaring at the knife.

"What the hell are you talking about," I bark.

Slowly, she moves her hand to her back pocket and pulls out a knife identical to mine. A smile comes across her face as she kisses her closed knife.

"Okay, I don't care anymore," she mumbles.

She jerks her face out of my hand, and puts her knife back in her pocket.

"How is it none of us here realized you have a knife on you," I grumble, partially talking to her, and partially talking to myself.

"The same way none of you noticed that I have a lighter, too," she points out, grabbing a lighter from her other pocket, and starts flicking open, then shut.

For about five minutes neither of us say anything, but there's the sound of her flicking the lighter. She flicks it closed and looks at me, again, I swear that she's staring at the scars. I get in her face again, and I ask,

"Why so serious?"

"Shh! I'm concentrating," she snaps, lifting her hand, she brings it up to my face.

But before she can touch me, I smack her hand down, and harshly grab her face. I glare at her, but it doesn't seem to affect her. Instead, I watch her stick her tongue out and lick my hand, then she gets an odd look on her face.

"You taste funny," she tells me.

"That's nice to know," I reply sarcastically.

She starts twitching her eyes from one side of the room to the other, never focusing on one spot for very long. Eventually, she stops and stares at me...again...for the third time.

"Can you stop touching me now," she questions, as if she asking me what one plus one is.

"Now, why would I want to do that," I respond, with an evil smile coming over my face...


	3. This Chair Hurts My Butt

"Now, why would I want to do that," he asks, I guess in a voice that's _supposed _to scare me.

"Because, I don't want you touching me," I tell him, as if I'm simply saying that the sky is blue.

"Aw, do I scare you," he questions, following that with his strange, some what stoner laugh.

"No, you don't. Now stop touching me...rawr," I say, only going rawr after he glares at me.

"...Did you just say rawr," he asks, looking at me like _I'm _the crazy one.

"...Maybe..." I reply, quickly looking from one side of the room to another.

From what Jayson tells me, that's my trademark, and I only do that when I know I'm joking around, or I don't feel like actually answering someone. But then, when I actually lie, people have no idea I'm doing it.

Suddenly, I had the urge to hug him...don't ask me why, but I did. And that made me think of the Gabriel Iglesias, and his Crocodile Hunter joke.

'Hi, my name's Karissa, and this here is the Joker. Gotham's most wanted criminal, he could kill me with the flick of a blade...I'm gonna hug him.'

And for some reason that thought seems like the funniest shit I've ever heard; I just start laughing my ass off. I'm once again to the point that I'm rolling on the floor and holding me sides. Me doing this once again makes Joker look at me like _what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into-kidnapping-this-bitch?_ Once I start thinking that, I some how manage to laugh harder, and Joker just keeps staring at me.

A few minutes later, I start to calm down and I sit back down in my chair, which I have turned upright.

"What the hell was that about," he questions.

"You'd have to be in my head to understand, and that's not really safe for anyone to do," I answer, starting to stage-whisper on the second half of the sentence.

Me saying this makes that weird, _I'm-stoned_ smile come back on his face. And I'm guessing by the look in his eyes, I know that most people would be scared shitless. Me, I'm just sitting here, not really sure what I should be doing. But, no matter what I _should _be doing, I take the oppertunity to lay on the ground, and sadly, it's pretty comfy. However, my moment is ended when Joker's foot connects with my side, and I get thrown into a wall. Stupid wall tore my shirt, part of it got caught on a nail.

"Son of a bitch, you ripped my shirt," I growl, even though I don't really care all that much.

"What did you call me," he demands.

"Are you deaf, dumbass? I called you a son. Of. A. Bitch," I tell him, slowly saying each word.

He lunges at me, only to have me pull my knees to my chest and then lash them out, catching him square in the chest. Laughing up until my feet hit him, he gets the wind knocked out of him as he slides across the room.

"As I said earlier, don't touch me," I remind him, notice the tear shows off a good portion of my back, which holds almost nothing but star-shaped scars and obviously my solid black tattoo.

In honesty, I usually could care less if people see my scars, but this...man, I wouldn't allow it. I refuse to let him know that I had once before been a victim. Looking over, I see him stand up and rub his chest where my feet hit. A small smile makes it's way over my face. I feel a sense of pride knowing that I can cause him pain just as easily as he does to me.

"What are you smiling about," he growls,"Don't you notice where you are, and who you're with?"

"I'm smiling because I can do as I damn well please. I notice that I'm in a crappy little room, with a sadistic clown, who I sadly relate to, and know that you're the kind of person I would actually spend my time getting to know," I say proudly, meaning every single word that comes out of my mouth.

"Is that so," he questions, and I can just see the gears turning in his head.

Jumping at me, he grabs my wrist and drags me out of the room. Quickly, we make our way through what looks like a livingroom, and there are a bunch of guys sitting on a couch. And just before he drags me out of the room, I smile and wave to everyone. Then he pulls me into a completely dark room. Oddly, this place has a sense of calming for me. That is, until he flicks the lights on; now it reminds me of my parents' "Playroom".

"What is this," I ask, my voice showing no emotion.

"This," he gestures to the room, "is my playroom."

Of course it is...dammit! I fight down the urge to shiver. Instead, I look around in middle interest. When I'm not paying attention, he grabs me, and ties my hands together. Lifting me up, he slides a hook in between my hands, then he ties my legs as well. But then he sets me in a chair, and gets me off the hook.

'Make up your mind!' I scream in my head.

He does, leaving me off the hook. He then begins to walk around the room; I guess looking for the perfect weapon. Finally, he just takes the knife from his pocket and walks over to me. Placing the knife against my collar bone, he just stands there, staring at me Then, without warning, he makes a small cut, moving the blade straight up. I make no sound, no movement. After the years of being cut, I have seemingly become immune to the feeling of it. Noticing my lack of pain, he makes a second mark, going across the first, so that I now have a cross on my collarbone. I look up at him, and he seems angry that he's getting no response. With barely any movement, he makes two more marks, so that the cuts leave a stick-star. Meaning, a scar of only six lines, one going up and down, another going left and right, and two more going at angles.

I'm getting bored and this point, and I blow air up at my bangs to move them from my eyes. But in doing so, I guess he saw the star on my temple. Getting too close for comfort, he pushes my bangs to the side, leaving the star out in the open.

"What happened here," he asks in fake concern.

And for some unknown reason, I give him the truth.

"My parents got bored one day," I state, not bothering to lie.

"Is that so," he asks, and I can tell he doesn't believe me.

I just nod my head, since I don't feel like actually speaking anymore.

"Now why would they do that," he questions.

"Like I said, they were bored," I tell him once again.

"And why don't I believe that," he asks mockingly.

"Because you are an ass who has no care for anyone else, whether they are lying or not. For all you know, I could be lying. I could have had perfect parents who loved me more than life itself. Or I could be telling the truth. And that I had shitty parents who didn't do anything but make my life a living hell until I was old enough to fight back," I answer, and I can hear myself getting snappy at the end.

He stares at me as if I've just told him that I'm the reincarnation of Christ and I've come to take him to Heaven.

"Well, well, looks like I finally found what makes you tick," he muses.

"No, if I'm ticking that's me cracking my bones, or maybe I'm a bomb. And what makes me tick is the energy drinks I supply myself with all day," I explain to him.

"So there's really nothing that makes you tick, and from what you've said the only pesson to miss you would be that big guy from the tattoo place, I'm guessing," he says.

I tilt my head to the side thinking about that for a second.

"Yes, which means you could kill me, and get away with it, nobody would know. But you might make Jayson sad," I explain, and I pout at the end, thinking about Jayson.

"Dammit, now I'm sad... Make it better!" I demand.

"No," he states, before moving towards the door.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going," I question.

"Now is that anyway for a lady to talk," he jokes.

"Where's this lady you speak of? I was raised to be a lady, but life made me a bitch," I tell him.

He just tilts his head to the side and stares at me like I did to him earlier.

"You could be useful," he mumbles.

"That's...great..." I hesitantly reply.

"Yeah, talking to yourself is completely normal," I mutter to myself, which defeats the purpose of what I said. Oops.

Oh well, I've never considered myself normal, so no point in starting now. Now, what was I talking about before I interrupted myself? I can't remember, but that's okay, I'm sure it wasn't important. However, it's now that I notice that the Joker is still ranting and raving, and I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. So, I think I'll just stare into space, sooner or later he'll notice I'm not paying attention. Or, he'll forget I'm even here, and he might leave.

"Instead of me killing or torturing you, how would you like to stay here," he asks as if he's asking an old friend to stay the night.

"I'd say you're on crack," I reply, completely serious.

"Aww, but we can share stories about our battle wounds," he tells me with a pout on his face.

I can't believe I'm about to do this.

"I'll stay under a couple conditions. One, you tell me how you really got your scars. Two, I'm allowed to get my stuff from my apartment. Three, I get to kiss you," I state, and I know, the last one's weird, but I've wanted to know what it would be like since I first saw him.


End file.
